


You pick me up when I fall down

by Someonewhosfunny



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angsty Schmoop, Character Study, Flashbacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someonewhosfunny/pseuds/Someonewhosfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as he saw Fernando hit the ground, Sergio kicked the ball out of play. He wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or just instinct that had him undermining his own team, but the only thing going though his head was “God please not his knee.” [In reference to the Guinness International Champions Cup game with Chelsea and Real Madrid.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You pick me up when I fall down

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Fall Down" by Will I Am and Miley Cyrus.  
> It didn't inspire this, but the song was stuck in my head and hey, it worked.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a comment :) I love hearing what people think.

As soon as he saw Fernando hit the ground, Sergio kicked the ball out of play. He wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision or just instinct that had him undermining his own team, but the only thing going though his head was “ _God please not his knee_.” Fear had taken grip of his heart, causing his blood to run cold, and the game blurred into the back of his mind.  All he could think was the worst.

And it wasn’t that he thought Fer was a china doll or something, but diving was not in his nature and he’d been on the ground longer than usual. Sergio held his breath as Fernando curled up, burying his face in the grass. His limbs wouldn’t carry him forward, but that was a good thing. He couldn’t run to Fernando right now, even if he wanted to. Even if it was killing him to watch from afar, he needed to stay put.

When Fernando finally got to his feet, Sergio let out a rush of breath, feeling lightheaded from the relief. He didn’t waste a second before he was jogging over to his friend, his worry not eased completely. Sergio dropped a hand on the back of his head, subtly pulling Fernando close to see that he was really okay.

“¿Estás bien?” he mumbled urgently, leaning in to be heard. “How’s your knee?”

Fernando nodded quickly that he was fine, but his assurance didn’t make the sickness in Sergio’s gut dissipate.  He refocused himself to the game regardless, but as he made clearances and blocks, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Fernando, analyzing his gait and assessing his fitness (although he justified to himself that he was just doing a good defender’s job). He _seemed_ fine… There was no reason for Sergio to worry.

But later in the night, after all the goals had been scored and a trophy had been lifted, Sergio remembered why he had worried, why he had felt a flash of regret when he himself tripped his international teammate.

He remembered the boy that he met in his first national team call up. He was 21 years of age and there was fire burning in his eyes. He was quiet, nothing like Sergio himself, but he wanted to uncover what about him made people love him. He knew Madrid loved him (more than he thought one city could love a person) and he wanted to as well. Sergio wanted to know what was so special about the shy boy with the prominent freckles.

When he saw Fernando on the pitch (in front of his eyes at the front of their team), he knew why so many loved him. Fernando was danger. A defender’s nightmare. He was young and fast and demanded to be noticed, unlike his personality off the pitch. (There were days when Sergio didn’t even remember Fernando was traveling with the team; he was just so damn quiet). But after he saw him in that first game, he never forgot him. Not when he moved to rainy England and away from the country that loved him. And not as he found new lovers in the city of Liverpool, where he became their hero, their star, the leading goal scorer.

The worst thing about remembering this was that he had something to compare the present to. If Sergio had just seen Fernando play every few years, never got to know him, there would be no problem. He would be able to watch a Chelsea game without fearing for his well being. Of course, Sergio never wanted to see a player get hurt, but Fernando _couldn’t_ get hurt. Sergio couldn’t live through that again.

He was at the Bernabéu when he first heard the news from Xabi.  

“Fernando is having knee surgery.”

“Again?” Iker had asked, looking incredulous.

But Sergio wasn’t all that surprised. He had been following the Fernando Torres knee injury saga for weeks. His first surgery in January had gone fine. The doctors said he’d get back to playing in 6 weeks if all went well so Fernando did everything right. He went to physical therapy. He trained with the team. He assured everyone he’d be okay.  

However, lately it had been giving him problems. His surgeon was telling him to rest it, to just take off a few weeks for his health, but of course, Fernando was not happy on the sidelines. Liverpool was suffering without him. (And Sergio hated that Liverpool was just another thing that Fernando felt responsibility for. He knew how much pressure Atletico had been and how much Fer had wanted this to be different).

So when Xabi delivered the news, explaining that Fernando would be out the rest of the season, he felt a sense of dread wash over him. More injury time. More unhappiness for his close friend. But he also felt worry for something much bigger than just Fernando. He worried for the World Cup only months away.

It was difficult with Fernando’s injury. While he was called up to the squad, he didn’t play the minutes he wanted to. He was frustrated, a bit disappointed, and Sergio didn’t know how to help. He just lent his support, hoping that was enough, but knowing that nothing could make him feel better. It was the World Cup, every young footballer’s dream. He knew Fernando just wanted to be able to give 100% for his country.

And when he was subbed in during the Final, he did just that. While he was grateful just to be playing, he wanted to stand out, to have his big moment on the world’s stage. But he wasn’t quite ready and his injury failed him. He’d pull his hamstring in the final seconds of the World Cup Final. And Sergio couldn’t shake the image of him lying on the ground, pain obvious from all the way across the field as the game continue on as if Fernando’s world had not just collapsed around him. He remembered seeing the flash of panic in his eyes when he’d seen the replay on the TV screen in the airport. And in the news. And on YouTube during the nights when he couldn’t sleep. Sergio had seen the pain in his eyes too, not from a pulled hamstring, but from a broken future.

And he talked to Fer as he worked his way back to fitness again, rehabbing and training through the entire break. He got his daily texts, his weekly phone calls, and he could see and hear the sadness in his words.

After that, Sergio could never forget the memory of broken Fernando. Truthfully, he didn’t have such a good recovery from that. There were still times when he saw the broken man in his eyes and heard it in his voice. It was getting better, he was becoming the old Fernando again, but he’d never be the same as he was before. Sergio just couldn’t watch him suffer again.

That was why he watched every Chelsea game he could, chewing on his nails nervously as he watched aggressive defenders knock his friend around. It happened far too often for his liking. Sometimes it seemed that Fernando had trouble keeping himself up, that the slight jostle would have his legs giving out on him, and it scared him. He just wanted Fernando to be safe.

But football wasn’t safe. And Sergio couldn’t protect him. 

**Author's Note:**

> So these short song related character study-esque things are getting old, yeah? But I just can't stop writing them. This is bad and I might delete it. It's kind of pointless, sorry. And super dramatic. I don't think anyone in the world could have a reaction this overdramatic, but ya know... I've also been told that the timeline confusing. Sorry! So thank you if you actually got through this!


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